


A Doughnut a Day

by dream56



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 18:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14141769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dream56/pseuds/dream56
Summary: Every afternoon, the doughnut shop is slow. Every afternoon, Lupin's shift drags on. Every afternoon, that stupid cop comes in and messes it all up.





	A Doughnut a Day

The donut shop was warm as the summer sun outside, but fragrant; yeast, glaze, and the bitter steam from the coffee machine intermingled. The transparent tables inside stayed vacant as the lunch hour ticked by and the sole employee on duty lounged at the counter, twiddling his fingers, crossing out a Sudoku puzzle. It was just about time.

The cashier scribbled a number, checked it against a separate row, erased, then rejotted the number. He was halfway to erasing it again when the door clanged open, the bells above it jangling. Zenigata paced in, appraising the place. The décor was checkerboard, not to his liking, though it never was. He strode up to the counter, his policeman’s uniform distinctly out of place in the pastel world of pastries.

Lupin looked up from the puzzle, amused.

“Donuts, daddy-o? What are you, a cop?”

“As a matter of fact,” Zenigata said, grasping his lapels importantly, “I—“

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“I’ve never seen anyone do that before.” Lupin said. “You look like a game bird.”

Zenigata shut his eyes, head to the side, his pride recovering. “Yeah, well, I happen to be the cock of the walk around the office. You should cut me some slack.”

“You look like you’re about to perform a mating dance.”

“Young man, you should respect your superiors! We police officers are constantly keeping you safe.”

Lupin graced Zenigata with a look that suggested he thought otherwise, so far otherwise in fact, he burst out laughing, slapping the counter.

Zenigata scratched his head. “What’s so funny?”

Lupin covered his face. “I cannot _imagine_ you chasing down some hoodlum, pops, sorry, no can do, cannot go down that road with you.”

“What’dya mean? I’m fit. I’m hip to the trends,” Zenigata said, pinching his muscle-flab, showing off the not-too-great roll of flesh that accumulated. “And if I’m off my daily regimen by a few pounds, I’ve got you to blame for it.”

“Hmm? What’cha mean, pops?”

The older man shrugged, releasing his shirt and stomach with it. “ _Nothing_ , nothing at all.”

Lupin gave the police officer a shit-eating grin, tweaking his head to side. “Ohh? Could it be this bakery is making you fat?”

“Of course not! Mind your own business!”

Lupin leaned across the counter, stretched out his arm, and poked his finger into one of Zenigata’s shiny gold buttons, pleased at the firm stock of man behind the button. “Well,” he said, “the donuts here aren’t _that_ great. I should know given how many of them I make every day. So if it’s not the donuts bringing you here…?”

A rising red flush covered Zenigata’s neck, then his face, tickling his sideburns with rosy embarrassment. “Don’t be stupid,” the cop said, smacking Lupin’s hand away, rubbing the button absentmindedly. “I’m here for the donuts, nothing else. Can’t help it if I like the way they taste.”

“Wow, pops.”

“Hm? What?”

“Didn’t expect you to have such shitty taste. I assumed you’d at least be one of those bourgeois cops that pretends to like upscale pastries, the type that hold their noses as they snarf ‘em down. Guess I can’t imagine you choking on a napoleon though.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Zenigata held up a hand, “Don’t underestimate me, kid. I’ve got plenty of experience with pastries. I know my way around.”

Lupin reasserted his finger, this time introducing it to the almost imperceptible curve of Zenigata’s stomach, again enjoying hitting the stiff wall of muscle behind the initial soft paunch. “Oh, I’m _sure_ you’re a known name in the criminal underworld of pastries and baked goods. I wouldn’t put it past you to tackle an éclair at one hundred yards…”

Zenigata didn’t slap Lupin’s hand away, only shuffled, getting warmer to the touch. “I, uh…Metabolism,” he mumbled shiftily, “I got good, uh…what? What’s so funny?”

Lupin had withdrawn his hand to clutch his ribs as he sank off the counter and landed behind the front display case where the police officer could see his knees.

“What? What’s the big idea?” he grumbled.

Lupin’s voice floated up from the floor, punctuated with laughter. “Has anyone ever told you _self-conscious_ is a good look for you, Daddy-O? It almost passes for humility.”

“Well, not all of us look like scarecrows, kid. Some of us have to work to look this good!” Zenigata flexed his guns, raising his arms into a bad replica of a bodybuilding pose.

The man behind the counter resurfaced, setting his chin on crossed arms just on the countertop. “I doubt you burn a donut a day.”

“Why you—!” Zenigata grimaced as Lupin continued laughing. It only took a few seconds though before the laughter began working on him and he joined in chuckling. The more Lupin gave himself to laughing, the more Zenigata forgot how much this kid made his blood boil, a moment of relief to their seemingly endless cat-fighting. As his chuckles died down, the cop sank his eyes into Lupin’s body, always amazed that anyone so wiry could make an apron look expansive.

“Ah,” Lupin said, wiping his eyes. “Anyway, Pops, don’t you have somewhere you need to be? I can’t sit here with you all day.”

Zenigata startled, ripping his sleeve up to check his watch, then matching it against the clock on the wall above the back counter. “ _Shit!_ My break’s almost over! Uh, give me, uh, two of those, two of…?”

Lupin had already twirled a pair of tongs in the air, bagging donuts before Zenigata could finish his sentence. With a whirl of metal and powdered sugar, the tongs were clanging back in their container at the same time Lupin was handing the officer his receipt.

“You come in again now,” Lupin said, his smile a sinister mimic of commercial courtesy.

Zenigata gaped at him.

“What?” Lupin said, “You gonna go, or what? I’ve gotta prep.”

“How did you know my order?”

“Eh?”

“Usually I grab donuts for the guys at the station but you knew _my_ order.”

“Get out of here old man, you’re gonna be late for your police board meeting or whatever it is you cops do.” Lupin picked up the tongs again, clacking them.

“Thanks, kid. However you knew.” Zenigata’s broken grin looked appreciative. He couldn’t act cool without ending up goofy, but something about the set of his jaw and the sheer pleasure of something small played on his face.

“Whatever, don’t make me kick you out. You’re gonna get yelled at.”

“What?” Zenigata said, putting an elbow on the counter. “Can’t I just stay here and get yelled at instead?”

“ _No_ ,” Lupin said, pushing the elbow off, “ _Go_ , before I have to call the cops on you.”

Zenigata gave a hoarse laugh. “Kids these days!” He threw his hands, the brown paper bag slapping his wrist. “Don’t even want me around! All right, I’m going, I’m going. But I’ll be back.”

“Great,” Lupin said, waving, “Thank you for your business.”

“And you can count on your neighborhood police officer to check in now and again.” Zenigata opened the door, slower than necessary.

“ _Great_ ,” Lupin said, rapidly working on something below the counter. “ _Thank you for your business.”_

Zenigata, halfway out the door, turned around again to speak when another brown paper bag sailed across the room and smacked him in the face. The impact only slightly threw him off balance, reflexively scrambling to catch whatever had just winged him in the head.

“Hey,” he said, fumbling with the bag, “what’s the big idea? You trying to damage this handsome mug of mine?”

“Just get out of here, old man, I’ve got _work_ to do!”

Lupin stomped off to the back of the shop, leaving the police officer staring off after him. He stepped back and the bells tingled above the door as it finally closed.

“That kid’s going to be the death of me,” Zenigata muttered, pinching his flab again. Somewhere a clock tower chimed and an electric pulse went though the cop’s body.

“ _Shit_! I’m _late_!” By the way he ran, anyone would have assumed he was in pursuit of a wanted confection. Also, probably in good shape.

Back at the police station, Zenigata dropped roughly into a swivel chair, the first sheen of sweat breaking on his forehead. He checked the clock on his desk and slouched, taking a long breath. What’s one or two minutes late for a keeper of the peace? He fanned his face, then his armpits with his hat. They ought to allow more time to socialize with the community, he thought. Lupin’s frustrated expression circled back to the front of his mind. The cop half-smiled.

Shame he didn’t have longer to make conversation with that counter-boy. He was always good for a laugh. “Come to think of it, that boy’d be a great entertainer or something if he got his act together, the way he talks to people…or a thief.” Of course, the police officer thought, that Lupin never got the better of him, however much he teased. Zenigata reached for the bag of doughnuts, pausing, remembering the second bag he’d gotten as a parting “gift.”

“Maybe it’s powdered,” Zenigata thought, peering in, “those are my favorite. Might be asking too much to—“

A single donut lay in the bottom of the bag, a plain soft donut emblazoned with glittering icing. It said, “ _Eat My Ass_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> For Aizenhower. The situation came from a post they made involving Lupin working for a bakery.


End file.
